Following Through

I was barely back to a bit of running by January, but Brad's first half marathon had me on a runner's contact high (is that a thing??), and we both immediately signed up for the Disney run in April. As the race drew near, however, I was seriously considering backing out.

The odds seemed stacked against me as several unexpected events sucked up my training time, and my body seemed unwilling to comply with my desire to run. I'd also managed to pack our schedule before and after the race, which left me no recovery time if needed.

I vacillated all week before the race. My reasons for backing out were legitimate, but I still struggled with feeling like I was giving up. By Saturday morning I decided I would get up, get dressed, and start the course. The potential of failure was better than giving up before I even started.

Race day started at 4am. I was full of anticipation and nervousness, not knowing exactly what the next few hours would bring. We started the race around 5:30am, and I carefully timed our pace using a run/walk cadence to help make sure I didn't put too much stress on my body. I told Brad he could leave me behind, but he stuck by my side every step of the way. I had a strong start, but I was cautious, knowing we had a long way to go. By mile 4 I was feeling really good, and we powered through a full mile. By mile 7 or 8 I was sore but still good, so we ran the full course through the Animal Kingdom and a little beyond. I changed our timing to longer runs and shorter walks, and at mile 11, I was ready to finish strong. All my tender spots were stressed, but not beyond their limits. I cranked up the volume on my music and strength and power pulsed through the rhythm of the music as I pounded out the final steps.

As we reached the last half mile tears of joy and gratitude poured out as I felt the indescribable empowerment of finishing something I thought I couldn't do. Brad ran ahead and caught me up in his arms as I crossed the finish line smiling and crying.

I spent many years of my life doing whatever felt good. I played hard, I slacked even harder, and I just enjoyed all the good that happened my way, letting the bad roll off. I never really "failed" at things because I didn't try. I switched paths (which is the way I justified quitting) once a job, a relationship, or my education got too hard. Life wasn't as painful that way (in theory), but it sure wasn't full of joy either.

A wise man (he's my dad in case you were wondering) once helped me realize that everything really "worth it" in life are things we have to work for. And each thing I've stretched to achieve has brought me more joy, and more confidence in what I'm capable of. Half marathons are probably pretty unimpressive in comparison to other endurance challenges, but the thing about physically challenging myself is that each time I finish I am reminded that I am powerful, I am strong, and I am a champion when I reach beyond my limits and don't give up.
I am grateful that God has given me a body that while imperfect, is healthy and strong. I am grateful that I've been blessed with a desire to do hard things. I am grateful God brought the most incredible cheerleader into my life to be my forever companion. I am grateful for a beautiful son who inspires me to be my best. I am grateful for the journey. While the finish was important, the true learning came through the journey before, during, and after the race.